


Who is the Monster here

by jaiijaii



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Hunchback of Notre Dame AU, M/M, idk how to tag tbh, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2385779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaiijaii/pseuds/jaiijaii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunchback of Notre Dame AU</p><p>Derek has spent his whole life trapped in the tower, only knowing what Judge Gerard Argent and his daughter Kate tell him. He's a werewolf, a monster as the Judge likes to call him, and his nature is reflected in his face; because Gerard never bothered to tell him that werewolves did not always look like that, that they could look human if taught properly.<br/>Derek never went against Gerard's word, because Gerard knew best. So why did he think it would be a good idea to sneak out and attend the annual festival? If you asked him, he'd blame the Gypsy boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something I've been thinking about for a while because being obsessed with Teen Wolf and Sterek and then watching The Hunchback of Notre Dame about three thousand times in one week does things to a girls brain. I'm not sure if anyone has actually written anything based of the Disney movie but if there is a peice of work out there that's familiar to this, please do let me know.  
> This is my first Teen Wolf fic and I would love some constructive criticism since I know not everything will be perfect

Derek watched as the streets below filled with colorful tents and bustling people dressed in vibrant fabrics decorated in beads and jewellery. He let out a sigh, his clawed fingers tapping on the stone ledge he leaned upon. He'd always wondered what it would be like to delve down into the annual festival, mingle with the gypsy's that flocked to the event. Every year he watched, finding what little enjoyment he could in the music and dancing and magic tricks that he could never quite understand. But he couldn't, not with his abnormal face that seemed forever fixed in a frown, the extra hair on his cheeks and the canines that protruded threateningly from his gums. His eyes were another thing he knew would scare people, his unnaturally bright eyes that glowed amber in his reflection on the gold bells he looked after in the tower. There was no-way he could go down there, not when he would be nothing short of feared. 

"Derek," The voice that echoed through the room never failed to send a shiver of nerves crawling up his spine, "Watching the festival again, are we?" Gerard walked closer, standing next to the man and looking down at him.

"Yes..." Derek didn't raise his eyes to meet the old man, didn't dare say more beyond what was asked of him. 

"I don't know what you find so interesting about it," Gerard sneered, "Nothing but a cluster of dirty travelers that feel the need to perform magic and dance like a pack of fools to entertain." He petted Derek's back and moved to the center of the room, seating himself at the small table there and waited. 

"If you don't mind me asking," Derek moved from the ledge, sitting across the man at the table, "Why do you attend the festival if you don't enjoy it?" He felt his heart hammering in his chest, his eyes in the old wood of the table as silence fell over the two. 

"I'm a Judge," Gerard said finally, speaking slowly and calmly, "And an Argent. I have a duty to uphold until my son takes over my position." Derek nodded, looking up from the table and feeling a small amount of relief at the old mans smile. 

"Alright..." He mumbled, his eyes falling again as Gerard shifted in his seat to reach down and pick up the basket he'd bought off the ground and put in on the table. 

"Now that that's all cleared up, shall we move onto your lessons?" 

"Yes sir." 

"Very good." Gerard plucked a large leather bound book from the basket, flipping it open to a page near the center of the book, "Do you remember what our last lesson was about?"

"Uh... The history of your family and... and um," Derek dug his claws into the sides of his chair, digging into the wood, "W-worewolves?"

"Werewolves, your very own species," Gerard corrected with a nod, "Very good. Werewolves used to be a plague on humanity, destroying homes and killing humans. An obvious sign of a murderous werewolves is their eyes. If they are rabid, they will have blue eyes that are too bright too seem natural. And what color will the be if they haven't taken a life?" Derek slowly looked up.

"They'll look like mine..." He said quietly, almost cringing at the way his teacher smirked and nodded. 

"That's right. We saved you, Derek," Gerard slowly closed the book, "Your family was rabid and you would have followed in their footsteps and killed and and destroyed and, worse then any of the crimes you could commit, you would have made more of your kind." He stashed the book back in his basket and stood, "You're lucky we got to you before it was too late." Derek nodded and waited until he heard the mans footsteps disappear down the stairwell before he stood and ran a hand over his face, letting out a long sigh as he made his way back to the ledge.  
The courtyard below had grown fuller, louder as people laughed and scurried about. Derek's eyes raked over the crowd, his ears picking up the sounds of the people below, his nose picking up the scent of strange foods and powders. He almost didn't sense the movement of three cold figures to his left.

"You should go down there." He turned and frowned at the only three creatures he'd ever been able to consider something close to friends. 

"No, no I don't think so." He stated. Erica, Boyd and Issac, the three stone statues that, for some reason Derek couldn't understand, could only move and talk when there was no-one but him in the room. 

"I don't see why not," Erica shrugged from her place on the corner of the ledge, "You watch this thing every year and it never occurred to you that nearly everyone down there is wearing a stupid mask?"

"She's right, you know," Issac put his rough hand on Derek's back, "No-one'll notice your weird face." Derek shot him a glare that went ignored, as usual. 

"Gerard would notice me." He said firmly. 

"Wear a hood." Boyd spoke up from his perch next to Erica, a small smile on his face as he shrugged when Derek turned his glare on him.

"Why are you three so insistent on me going down there?" He asked, turning back to the crowd, a reason against his attending the festival on the tip of his tongue, until his gaze fell on a small group of gypsy's outside a tent across from the entrance to the tower. One was a beautiful young lady with red locks that bounced around her as she twirled around, her forest green skirt fanning out as danced to the sound of the tambourine in her hand. Next to her was a young man, his skin slightly more tan then the red headed girls, and his hair near black; he sat on the ground, his legs crossed as he thanked by passers who dropped money into the old hat in front of the dancing girl. As stunning as the girl was, with her twirling and dipping and rhythm with the tambourine, and as handsome as the boy was, with his big smile and his muscles bare to the sunlight under his open purple vest, Derek found that they were both paled next to the third person in their little group; the pale dark haired boy with a wide grin that lit up his face. The boy was standing in the open entrance to their bright red tent, his hands clapping along with the girls music. Derek couldn't help but take in what he could see of him up in his tower; his memory cataloging the boys pale skin, his sparkling brown eyes and the lose white shirt under the open green vest. The shirt was tucked into the the red sash around his waist, his light grey pants just short enough to show off his thin ankles, one of which had a neat little silver anklet. His was stunning, and Derek found himself smiling a little when the girl took the beautiful boys hand and pulled him forward, forcing him to dancing with her, spinning and swaying his hips as the girl twirled around him. 

"Guys," Erica smiled down at the werewolf, who didn't acknowledge her as he continued to watch the boy, "I think Derek's going to attend the festival today."  
  


XXX

 

Nerves ran through Derek's veins as he crouched on the stone ledge, the dark grey table cloth used as a makeshift cloak making him only slightly more confident to go down among the people. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment and focusing; focusing on the scent and sound of joy and laughter, the memory of that boy dancing with his friend, his smile, his laugh, the way his body moved and his eyes closed as his hips swayed to a rhythm in his own head that he seemed to lose himself to. Derek opened his eyes again, and all nerves washed away when he caught sight of the beautiful boy, disappearing into his tent while the girl continued to dance and the other boy thanked people for their coins. 

"Hurry up," Erica's voice pulled him from his thoughts, "Don't make me push you." 

"She'll do it Derek, you know she will." Issac laughed as, without so much as a goodbye, Derek leaped from the ledge, propelling himself away and landing on the low room of the blacksmiths shop. He had to balance himself quickly, almost losing his footing and rolling off the roof. 

"Okay," He mumbled to himself as he began to crawl towards the edge of the roof that led off into a small alleyway that was shrouded in shadows, "Okay here we go..." He dropped from the roof, landing with a thud on the dirty ground below. He was out of the tower, he was _out of the tower_ , on the ground where other people walked; an experience he hadn't a single memory of. He tugged his cloak more firmly around himself, pulling the hood further forward to hide as much of his face as possible before he ventured out into the crowd. , on the ground where other people walked; an experience he hadn't a single memory of. He tugged his cloak more firmly around himself, pulling the hood further forward to hide as much of his face as possible before he ventured out into the crowd.  
 _Keep your head down, don't look directly at anyone._ He repeated his own instructions in his head over and over as he walked, not daring to look at anyone from the neck up. Even with most of the people there in masks, it was too much of a risk to be seen completely.  
Derek heard a name being called as he walked, but he didn't manage to catch it as whoever was calling out said name also yelled out a distinct _'watch out!'_ and then he was knocked back onto the dirt with a smaller body falling on top of his.

"O-oh, I'm so sorry," The body shifted and raised itself enough for Derek to get a  good look; Derek's heart almost stop. 

"It's... okay..." He stared up into a pair of big brown eyes before his own gaze moved down the boys face, able to now properly see the little moles dotting his skin, the little twinkle in his eye as he gave a small smile. 

"I like your mask," Derek blinked in confusion for a moment before realization dawned on him. Of course people would think his unnatural face was a mask, "And the claws, nice touch." The boy took hold of one of the werewolves hands, examining the jagged deadly claws closer. 

"Thanks I uh... I made them myself," Derek mumbled, his eyes fixated on the way the boy just made himself comfortable on top of him and began to tug and pull at his claws.

"They're on there pretty good," He said with one last tug, "What are they made from?" Derek opened his mouth, unsure if it was to answer or just to do _something_ because the boy was still fiddling with his claws; no-one had dared try to touch his claws that were made for tearing and killing.

"Stiles!" The red headed girl appeared behind the boy, wrapping her hands around his bicep and pulling him up. _Stiles._  Derek almost smiled. He had a name to that face; an odd name but a name none the less. "You need to start _watching_ where you're going," The girl had Stiles by the ear now, tugging him passed Derek as the werewolf pushed himself up, "You could have hurt that poor man."

"Sorry, sorry," Stiles kept repeating the word, even as they disappeared in he crowd, but Derek had a sneaking suspicion that he didnt mean it; if the grin the boy was wearing as they went was anything to go by. 

"Hey, are you okay?" Derek turned, finding himself staring at the other boy in their group, "Stiles can be a bit clumsy sometimes..." He seemed to think for a moment, "Okay, a lot of the time." 

"You three are here for the festival?" He knew it was a dumb question, of _course_ they were there for the damn festival; and the boy raised an eyebrow for a moment before he smiled and nodded.

"Uh, yeah, our first year," He held out a hand, "I'm Scott," Derek reluctantly met his palm with his own, "The red headed queen is Lydia and, well, you've met Stiles." 

"Where are they going?" Derek figured he'd probably asked a little quickly, his voice coming out probably just a little bit desperate, when Scott gave him a small frown.

"They've been asked to do the unmasking this year." 

"Unmasking?" Derek had to think for a moment, remembering the past years of the festival and _oh, right_ the unmasking of all those in hideous masks that forced them to pull the ugliest face they could to win the prize. "I'll see you around." He didn't wait to hear Scott say goodbye or whatever it was he was going to say as he turned and took off towards the stage in the middle of the courtyard.  
Tugging his hood back up over his head, he approached the stage. All he had to do was keep his 'mask' hidden and he would be fine. Nothing would go wrong.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should warn you now that I'm not a big religion fan, so I may bash on it a bit in this story but I want everyone to know that I don't mean to intentionally offend anyone, I have the utmost respect for people and their choice of lifestyle and if anything I write upsets or offends you, please let me know and I'll personally apologies

"Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls!" The man on the stage bellowed, his voice commanding the attention of the entire audience, "It's that time again, my friends, for the unveiling of the most hideous face of hideous faces!" The crowd cheered as the man weaved around the people lined up on the stage, all wearing ridiculous masks and funny costumes. Stiles and Lydia were standing on either side of the line-up, smiles on both their faces as the spokesman came to stand front and center on the stage. "Shall we begin?" The people below erupted in a serious of chants and cheers, the only one silent being Derek as he kept his eyes on the gypsy boy standing next to a hulking man in a terrible gargoyle mask.   
And then it happened; Stiles' eyes found him and lit up with joy, which would have had Derek's heart racing for a whole other reason besides terror, but the boy quickly ran forward, leaning down from the stage and taking hold of the werewolves arm and pulling him up. Derek was shocked into a state of obedience, leaving him helpless as Stiles situated him somewhere in the center of the line.   
  
"Get ready to pull a scary face," The boy whispered in his ear and Derek almost missed the little wink he gave. He looked over the crowd, none of them staring at him in terror, only cheering and clapping as the spokesman gave the word and Stiles and Lydia went down the line, tearing off masks and shoving people down into the dirt when the faces they pulled weren't satisfactory. Derek almost laughed at some of the expression the men pulled; they all looked ridiculously stupid, but everyone was laughing and cheering and god, he almost forgot that _he_ was in the line as well.   
His heart dropped into his stomach when the gypsy boy came in front of him. He was the last in the line, the last to be unmasked and Derek would have ran, would have gotten the hell out of there but the smile on that boys face was so bright, so wide and genuine that Derek found himself frozen in place.   
  
"Ready?" Stiles reached up and pushed the hood off before taking hold of his ears and, oh no, Derek only then remembered that Gerade and his son and daughter would be watching the event, watching _him_.   
  


"Wait-" He needed to get down, he needed to get back to his tower and pretend it was all just a dream, wait for Gerard to punish him and then get back to his life watching the people below with only three stone statues as company. But then he felt it. Stiles' grip tightened slightly and he tugged, hard enough that if the werewolf was wearing a mask, it would have come off; but it didn't, his face stayed firmly in place and he wasn't revealed to be a man underneath pulling a stupid expression. The gasp that fell from the boy as his hands fell from Derek nearly tore his heart in two. The crowd went silent and Derek managed the courage to look up passed the crowd to the stand set up so that the judge and his children would have the best view. There was Gerard, sitting in a plush seat with a look of pure rage. Next to him was his eldest son, Chris, looking no more then shocked. But where was-  
  
"Fret not ladies and gentlemen!" His eyes snapped to the spokesman, watching carefully as the man came up next to him and put an arm around his shoulder. "We wanted the most hideous face around? Well, looks like we've found it!" The crowd fell into another series of chants and laughter and cheers and Derek felt butterflies in his stomach when they were all cheering for _him_. He forgot about Gerade, he forgot about his own abnormality, he forgot about years of loneliness because in that moment, he felt on top of the world. He looked around for the boy, the reason for his being there, but he couldn't be seen, having possibly disappeared into the crowd once the spokesman announced their winner.   
Before he knew what was happening, Derek was being led to the side of th stage, where there stood a wooden podium, built for the winner of the competition, built for _him_. He didn't even hesitate when he was urge to step up and take his prize. He didn't care about the silly little crown they put on his head, he didn't care about the flower petals they tossed over him; all he cared about was the way they clapped and smiled up at him, cheering for him, smiling for him. He didn't even realize he'd been grinning like a fool, but he honestly _didn't care_. There were very few things in his life that were good, very few things that made him smile. His three friends were honest and kind and weren't afraid of him in the least, but they were also pushy pains in the neck when they wanted to be. His only other company was Gerard, or if he couldn't make it, Kate would fill in, and she was just as cruel in her words as her father. Chris never seemed to be permitted to see the werewolf, either that or he didn't want to. But on that day, with the crowd treating him like a king, Derek was overflowing with joy.   
  
Of course, all good things must come to an end; something Derek remembered quickly when his eyes found Kate standing in the crowd, a smirk on her face and a-was that a tomato in her hand?   
He soon realized that yes, it was a tomato that she was holding, when the smell of it overwhelmed him as it flew from her hand and came splatting against his cheek.   
All went silent for a moment, people looking around in confusion until another tomato went flying at him and hit him in the forehead.   
There were guards, a dozen of them, all spread out in the crowd, all with bags of fruit and eggs and soon, they were handing them out to people; it didn't take long for the crowd to catch on.   
Derek near howled as he was hit from every angle, the people laughing _at_ him as they kept throwing whatever they got their hands on.   
He needed to get away, he needed to run far away and get somewhere no-one would find him. He had too be alone; but as he began to stumble back, he felt something wrap around his neck-rope-and pull him forward suddenly, forcing him to his knees before other people contributed as he began to struggle to get back up. He felt constricted, trapped, tied up too tight and he could feel his control slipping. His eyes locked on Kate and she just _smiled_ at him.   
God, he wanted to kill her. He wanted to break the ropes and leap down there, hold her down and _tear_ her throat out. He wanted to feel her blood and flesh in his mouth, wanted to watch the life drain out of her. He needed to kill her. He needed-  
He hadn't noticed the silence that fell over the crowd, barely even noticed how Kate's smile fell to a frown as she looked from him to the steps that led up on the stage. But when Derek did finally notice and he followed her gaze, he almost felt his heart in his throat. 

"I'm sorry." Stiles, the gypsy boy who'd dragged him up on that stage, was slowly, so slowly, making his way closer to Derek, stepping up on the podium and kneeling down next to him. "I'm so... so sorry..." He reached out carefully, a white cloth in his hand. Derek flinched away and Stiles pulled back, only a little, before he gently touched the cloth to the werewolves forehead. Derek felt his heart pounding, his chest heaving as he took in fast, shallow breaths. He could feel himself shaking, anger and fear controlling his body.   
Stiles placed a hand on his cheek as he wiped away some of the egg and fruit from his face and Derek didn't even notice himself leaning into the touch. 

" _Boy_!" Gerard's booming voice set Derek's nerves on edge again, his body tightening up ready to run. "Get down from there!" Stiles didn't even look away from Derek.  
  
"Yes sir," He called, "I'll get down as soon as I've taken care of this poor man."   
  
"Do not make me repeat myself boy." Stiles finally looked up, but he said nothing as he reached to his side and pulled a small dagger hidden in his sash, his eyes turning back to Derek as he slashed the ropes off and tucked the dagger back into place.   
  
"You shouldn't disobey him..." Derek's voice was so small, sounding strange to his own ears. He couldn't find it in him to be surprised when the boy shrugged and took Derek's arm and put it around his shoulders.   
  
"Come on," He urged the man to his feet, "Let's get you out of here..." He reached up with his free hand and tugged the now filthy cloak up over his head. It was dirty and mushed more grime into his hair, but he felt a little safer being hidden from the people, the shadow of the hood covering most of his face.   
  
"Guards!" Gerard's voice rang out through the courtyard and Derek froze at his next words, "Arrest the gypsy boy!"   
  
"Okay big guy," Stiles pulled Derek off him, nudging him towards the stage steps, "Time for me to go." Derek turned to look up at him, catching the boys wide grin before he took off to the back of the stage, jumping down and darting off into the surrounding crowd.  
The werewolf began to move down the steps, keeping the cloak wrapped firmly around himself as he walked through the slowly parting people. Behind him, he could hear the commotion of the guards chasing the gypsy, and he was clearly giving them a run for their money when he heard a loud crash and an eruption of laughter. People began to ignore him, running off to watch Stiles make a fool of Gerard's men and Derek was never more relieved when he finally reached the doors to the tower.   
  


XXX

 

"That... Didn't go well..."  
  
"Shut up Issac." Erica hissed as Derek slowly appeared walking up the stairwell, the dirty cloak now held in a tight fist.   
  
"So uh, it was Erica's idea." Issac received nothing more then silence as the werewolf stalked further into his home. He was shaking and his eyes were set on the ground and the three stone statues felt an immediate urge to be as quiet and still as possible.   
Minutes ticked by and Derek didn't move, didn't speak; hell, he friends weren't to sure that he was even breathing. Though his body began to visibly tense, his hand beginning to tremble until he let out a roar that echoed through the bells and there was no way that the people down below did not hear.   
Derek snapped, the cloak forgotten on the ground as he tore through the place, tearing bells from the roof, throwing the table at the wall, breaking everything he got his hands on. He was growling and snarling and looked more animal then man; more _monster_ then his friends had ever seen him before. None of them spoke, because although they may have been stone, they could still break. 

"I shouldn't have gone down there," Derek dropped to his knees, his voice coming out nearly a scream, "Why did I go _down there_!?" He buried his face in his hands, his breathing heavy and his entire body shaking near violently. He stayed there for longer then his friends could count, hunched over with his head in his hands.   
  
"Derek," Erica spoke up cautiously, "It wasn't your fault that happened. If that boy hadn't pulled you up there you-" She cut herself off quickly when Derek's head snapped up, his nose in the air as he began to sniff.  
  
"He's here," He growled, "He's down below."   
  
"Derek I wouldn't recommend-and he's not listening..." Boyd sighed, watching the werewolf take off down the steps.   
  


XXX

 

Derek followed the scent, crawling along the rafters until he spotted him; the gypsy boy that both caused his mess and saved him from it. The boy was slowly walking further into the building, his wide eyes taking in the sight and Derek couldn't help but simply watch him as the candle light illuminated him.   
  
"Wow..." Stiles' whispered echoed through the building, filled with complete wonder and awe and Derek was so caught up in just watching him that he didn't even sense the new presence in the room.  
  
"Well you certainly know how to put on a show." Chris Argent, Gerard's son and captain of the guard, walked up behind Stiles, his hand lightly on the hilt of his sword at his hip. Te boy tensed for a moment before reaching for his dagger and spinning to face the man.   
  
"I try," He said almost jokingly, his blade aimed at Chris, "Though I tend to perform better when rehearsed."   
  
"Is that so?" Chris was smiling at him, his hand falling from his weapon and he showed his palms to the boy in a sign of peace, "To be honest I'd rather not arrest you here."   
  
"And why's that? Afraid of the big bad man in the sky?" Stiles took a step back when Chris stepped forward and Derek was almost ready to leap down and do _something_ -he wasn't sure what-but the doors opened again and Gerard waltzed in, Kate at his side.   
  
"Very good Chris," The old man's smirk matched his daughters as the two of them came up beside the captain, "Now arrest the little terror and we can all go enjoy the rest of the festival." Stiles looked as the he were about to make another run for it, his eyes wide and his grip tight on his dagger.   
  
"I can't," Chris spoke up firmly, seeming to shock everyone in the room, "He claimed sanctuary. I can't arrest him here." Stiles looked more confused then anyone; he _knows_ the word never fell from his lips.  
  


"You're going to let a word stop you from taking this little gypsy prisoner?"   
  
"For a family that claim to uphold the good, you seem to do a lot of bullying." The smooth, calm voice was one that Derek knew all too well, one that he sneak down from the top of his tower just to listen to.   
  
"I do apologize, Father Deaton," Gerard bowed his head as the other man approached, "But this little street rat caused us quite a bit of trouble."   
  
"From what I understand," Deaton came up behind the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder, "He was only trying to help a poor soul your men were tormenting." Slowly, the gypsy laid down his small weapon, tucking it back in place as he carefully moved to stand a little closer to the Father.   
  
"It does not matter what he was doing beforehand. He disobeyed a direct order-"  
  
"He's a Gypsy, not a soldier, Gerard." There was a moment of silence as the two older men stared at each other, a silent conversation seeming to transpire between them.  
  
"Very well," Gerard finally said with a nod, "The boy will stay here," The smile that spread over his face when he turned to Stiles was one that Derek knew well; a cruel and calculating expression in a simple twitch at the corners of his lips. "Don't forget, gypsy," he stepped forward, close enough to run a finger over the boys cheek, "Step beyond those doors, and you're mine." He turned and ushered his son and daughter to follow.   
  
"Don't worry," Deaton said once the three disappeared through the doors, "You're safe in here. And," he looked up to the roof and Stiles followed his gaze, "you can always go and see the bells if you get bored."   
The boy said nothing, but Derek knew that he could see him. He could _feel_ those big eyes on him as the werewolf began to slink back further in the shadows before he made his way back up to his home.   
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Derek sat in the center of his still partially destroyed home, his legs crossed and his eyes closed. He listened for what he both anticipated and dreaded; the sound of quiet careful footsteps made by a pair of bare, dirty soled feet. He knew the gypsy knew he was up there and he wasn't sure whether or not he was brave enough to venture up into the top of the tower.  
  
"You know, he probably wont come," Issac said carefully, "He's probably too scared to even think about what you might do after he was the reason you were-"  
  
"Shut up." Derek snapped, his ears perking because _was that the telltale squeak of the stairwell?_  
  


"No seriously, I don't think you have anything to worry about..." Issac fell silent when the footsteps Derek had been listening for became loud enough for even the three statues to hear.  
  
"Dammit." Derek snarled as he stood and quickly hid in the shadows behind the bells he hadn't torn down in anger.  
  
"Hello?" The boy's voice was so cautious, and Derek could hear his heart hammering so loudly he could almost feel it in his own veins. "I know you're home, considering I think the entire courtyard heard that great big growl, or... howl or whatever it was that you did. I just-I just wanted to come and see, make sure you're okay? I-I didn't mean for everything to turn out the way it did, I just... I've never seen a face like yours and I thought-I thought it was just a mask but-"  
  
"Get out." Derek almost shocked himself when his voice came out a loud growl, and the way Stiles tensed and his heartbeat spike as he froze in at the top of the stairs, he was more then a little nervous.  
  
"No," the gypsy continued into the room, "No, I want to talk to you. I need to see your face, need to know you're real and I'm trapped here for a good reason." Derek didn't want to hear it, he wanted to be left alone but the damn boy walked further and further into his home, into the only place he could be without having to hide and he was _destroying_ that.  
He didn't even notice he'd moved from his hiding place until he had the gypsy pinned to a wooden pillar. One hand tangled into his vest, tearing the fabric, and the other wrapped around the thin, breakable neck that could so easily be torn apart by the claws digging into that soft, pale flesh.  
  
"There you are big guy..." Stiles whispered almost hesitantly, his arms hanging at his sides even as his heart pounded in a way that Derek knew was because he was afraid.  
  
"I don't..." The werewolf loud out a long breath, "I don't want you here. I don't care what you need, I don't want you here." He watched as the boys eyes moved around the room and he knew he was taking in the way it was wrecked. Some of the beautiful bells lay dented across the floor, the splintered table on the other side of the room.  
  
"Something tells me that you need someone here..." He mumbled and Derek's grip loosened a little before his hands fell from the smaller body completely.  
  
"Listen," He stepped away from the gypsy boy, turning his back to him and stalking away, "It's... It's in your best interest to leave."  
  
"And do what? Go down and mingle with prayer circle?" Stiles didn't move from his place against the pillar, his eyes never leaving the mans back.  
  
"You'll be safer down there."  
  
"Safer from what? You?" Derek heard him move then, stepping closer, "I'm not afraid of you..."  
  


"You _should_ be!"  
  


" _Why_!?" The demanding tone the boy took on shocked Derek into spinning and facing him, "Yeah, you're not normal; I mean, no-one has a face like that but that doesn't give any reason for people to be _afraid_ of you." His words were met with silence, the two of them just staring at each other until Derek turned looked to the ground.

"I'm... I'm a monster..." He mumbled the words as quietly as he could, not wanting to hear them himself, but Stiles definately heard them if the slow tentive footsteps edging closer were anything to go by.  
  
"Have you killed anyone?" The boy was right behind him and Derek could feel the hand hovering over his back, not quite touching.  
  
"No..." The werewolf whispered, "No I haven't... But I could."  
  
"You know who do kill people?" Stiles asked quietly, his hand gently falling onto the material of Derek's still dirty black shirt, "People... People kill people, it's what they do. Do you see them as monsters?"  
  
"They don't-they don't look like this..."  
  
"Oh my-" Stiles took hold of the mans arm and spun him around, glaring into his eyes, "You think your _face_ makes you what you are? You think because your _different_ means you have to be a monster? Well I've got news for you, pal-"  
  


"Please," Derek cut him of quickly, quietly, "Please just go..."  
  
"No."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because," Stiles cleared his throat and took a step back, waving a hand at Derek, "I did this... I pulled you up on that stage and now you're covered in egg and fruit and god knows what else, so," he moved around Derek, over to the small pile of blankets in the far corner that the werewolf used as a bed and taking hold of one of the thinner sheets, "I'm going to clean you up and then you're going to calm down and we're going to have a normal conversation that doesn't include anything to do with today. Where can I get some water?"  
Derek stared at the boy because _was he serious_? He had to know that his throat could be ripped out at any moment, that the claws and teeth weren't just for show, right? He had to know, and he just didn't seem to care.

"Uh... This way..." Derek led him to a small open window hidden behind one of the still intact bells and gestured for him to lean outside.  
  
"You're kidding me?" Stiles poked his head out the small arched window and gaped. A stone gargoyle head on the side of the building was spurting out water; rain water that had gathered up in the previous night. " _This_ is your water source?"  
  


"Well, Deaton gives me what I need when it comes to food and drink, but I'd rather not use that to clean tomato out of my hair."  
  
"Fair enough," The boy stuck the sheet out and held it under the water, "Go sit on one of your not destroyed chairs." Derek obeyed reluctantly, moving to pick up one of his chairs and take a seat, his back straight and his shoulders stiff as Stiles pulled back inside after ringing the sheet out a little.  
Silence fell over them as the gypsy began to wipe the mess off, starting with the werewolves face. The cool of the damp sheet sent a shiver down his spine, but Derek found it oddly calming; the way Stiles was so gentle and didn't shy away when he looked into those unnatural glowing eyes. The boy was close, his breath fanning out over Derek's face as he moved to his hair, scrubbing a little harder to get the slop out.  
  
"Take your shirt off." There was no hesitance in Stiles voice, but when he stood straight to give Derek the room to take the hem of his shirt and pull it over his face, there was a slight tinge of pink to his cheeks that the werewolf would have smirked at if he didn't feel quite so exposed himself. He almost missed the barely audible "of course you have a body like that..." and couldn't stop staring as the boy began to wipe away the mess that had seeped through his shirt.  
"Why didn't you listen to him?" Derek blurted the question out after a moment of silence, clearly catching Stiles off guard when he paused, the sheet barely touching Derek's skin.

"If you ask my friends, they'll tell you it's because I've always had trouble with authority," He said quietly, returning to his work, "and while that's true, I've also always had trouble with the mistreatment of people who haven't done anything wrong." 

"How do you know I haven't done anything wrong?" 

"You don't seem the type." Stiles looked up, staring Derek in the eyes as if to _dare_ him to try to prove him wrong, to try and act the bad guy.  
They fell into silence again as Stiles wiped him clean of the days nightmare. He had a strange gentleness to him, never pushing too hard but managed to get the slop away. By the end of it, the sheet was filthy and Derek felt a little like a polished figurine. 

"Lydia's going to be so angry with me..." Stiles sighed as he leaned out the small window again and began to scrub the sheet under the rain water.

"Why don't you leave?" Derek watched him, still in his sheet and he barely caught the faked laugh that came from the gypsy.

"You know what will happen to me if I leave this place..." Stiles mumbled, trudging passed the werewolf to hang the sheet over the stone ledge, "The Judge would have me locked in a cell, and," He turned to Derek, "Trust me, I wouldn't do well in a cell." 

"So... what are you going to do?" 

"Right now? Nothing," The gypsy leaned against the ledge, "Just enjoy being safe from those Argent's and their men for a little while." Derek said nothing, simply watching the boy close his eyes and take in a deep breath. "The air is a lot fresher up here, not so much dust." He peeked an eye open when the man only grunted in response. And then he pushed himself from the ledge and stalked over to him. 

"What?" Derek sat up straight, tensing further as the gypsy stopped in front of him.

"I've been trying not to ask but, to be honest, I have a terrible habit of saying whatever comes to mind so," The boy crossed his arms over his chest, "Why do you look like that? Why do you have claws and canines and why do your eyes glow?"

"I-" How the hell was Derek supposed to answer that? Stiles was staring at him expectantly, his gaze like a heavy weight on his chest. "I'm just... different. I'm not like you." 

"You know, you seem like you have things fantastic ability to tell people things they already know." There was nothing else said after that; Stiles simply turning and returning to the ledge, leaning over it and watching as the sun began to set over the festival below.  
  
  


 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I should probably mention is that this isn't beta'd, so I'm sorry for any mistakes that I've made; and I know I've made a few because I have a tenancy to read through the last chapter I wrote after posting it to keep the feel of the story. I should probably do that BEFORE posting but old habits and all that

"Do you think he was caught?" Lydia twirled a lock of hair between her fingers, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth as she watched Scott pace back and forth in their tent.

"I don't know," The boy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "He's smart, and quick. I don't think they would have been able to, but he should be back by now." He stopped in the middle of the tent, his shoulders slumped, "What if that... man got him?"

"The one he so rudely ran into?" A nod was the response to Lydia's question, "Don't think so. He took off into the church before I even lost sight of Stiles."

"Maybe he's-"

"He's in the church." The two gypsy's snapped their gazes to the opening of their tent, where a young girl with a head of curly brown hair and dark eyes stood with a tentative smile on her face. She looked like more then a commoner, with her elegant sliver dress and the valuable necklace around her neck. "I'm sorry," She stepped further inside the tent, "My father told me he was in there."

"And who is your father?" Lydia spoke up, placing her hands on her hips and raising a fine brown.

"Chris Argent," The girl's smile fell a little, "I'm Allison." Lydia glanced at her friend for a moment and almost rolled her eyes. The boy looked as though he was looking at an angel who had just so happened to walk into their tent.

"Are they going to arrest him?" Scott asked quietly and when Allison looked at him, Lydia really did roll her eyes at the way they just stared at each other. "No," Allison shook her head,

"No they can't, not while his under Father Deaton's protection in the church."

"Is there any way we can get him out?" Lydia stepped up beside Scott, worry obvious in her eyes, "He won't do well trapped in there for long."

"Not while my Grandfather has guards posted at every exit. There are at least twenty men positioned around the building at all times."

"He'll get out," Scott's statement held no inch of doubt, "People tend to underestimate how smart he is."

 

XXX

 

As beautiful as Stiles was, Derek couldn't deny that he was one of the biggest pains in the ass he'd ever encountered in his life; and he lived with Erica, Boyd and Issace.

"I don't understand how you do this," The boy sighed, sitting cross legged on the ground next to the werewolves bed.

"Do what?" Derek grumbled, burying his face in the sheets, trying convey to the gypsy that he was _trying to sleep_.   
  
"Stay up here," Stiles stared at the man, his arm propped up on his kneel while he rested his chin in his palm, "It's so small and dark and what do you even do all day?" 

"I have things to do during the day," Derek sighed, "But, at night, I quite like the idea of _sleeping_. You should try it." 

"And where would I sleep?"

"I don't care."

"But you're my host." And Derek could just _feel_ the little grin on the boys face.

"I didn't make you come up here," He said, turning his head to look at Stiles and, yup, there was that little grin, "You could have gone anywhere."

"There's only one place in this entire city that the Judge doesn't have full control," Stiles leaned closer, as if to make sure Derek was listening, "And that's here. As long as I remain here, he can't touch me." 

"But you won't last long here. Not when you're used to the open space and the luxury of coming and going when you please. You'll go mad if you stay here for too long." Derek hid his smirk in the sheets when the boys grin fell and he averted his eyes to the floorboards. 

"Unlike you, who has no idea what its like to be able to leave without fear of being turned into a target for fruit." That... struck a never.   
Derek was up in a heartbeat, hands wrapping around the boys biceps and pulling up to eye level and forcing him to stand on his tiptoes.

"Do you want me to make it easier on you and just throw you out the window?" His voice came out a vicious growl, his eyes glaring into the gypsy's own wide and terrified gaze. Derek could smell the fear and regret on the boy, could hear the way his heart was beating impossibly fast. 

"R-remember when I told you that I tend to say whatever I think...?" His voice was quiet, cautious, "That-that was one of those times..." He winced when Derek began to tighten his hold; claws slowly piercing soft skin. "I'm... I'm sorry..." 

"If you speak again," Derek spoke in a slow calculated tone, "I'll rip your throat out."

"Then I guess you really would be a monster..." There was silence after that and Derek wasn't sure what to do. He listened as the boy heart-rate began to slow, becoming a kind of calming rhythm.   
Stiles met the werewolves gaze, the fear draining out of his eyes longer he was held in place; the longer Derek didn't anything more to hurt him. Without another word, Derek spun the boy and shoved him down onto the pile of sheets, almost finding the squeak that fell from his mouth laughable.

"What-"

"Go to sleep." Derek turned and stalked towards the ledge.

"But you-"

"I'm not tired anymore. Just go to sleep." There was no room for question in his tone and when he turned to look at the boy, he was met with the sight of him curling up in his sheets. In the back of his head, there was a little voice that reminded him that _the bed's going to smell like him now_ , but he really couldn't care less. 

"He's a mouthy little thing." Erica's voice cut through the silence when Stiles had fallen asleep. "I don't think any of us would even be brave enough to talk t you like that, and we're made of stone."

"He's annoying." Came Issac's opinion and Derek couldn't help but look to Boyd, waiting for his say in the matter.

"He definitely isn't used to keeping his opinion to himself." 

"He needs to leave..." Derek groaned, leaning his elbows on the ledge and burying his face in his hands.

"Then make him go back down and stay with Deaton," Erica suggested, "It's not like he has to stay up here."

"You really think he'll listen to me?"

"Derek, you're a big bad werewolf," Issac gestured at him, "Growl at him or something. Do the scary intimidating thing."   
Derek opened his mouth to reply, but went silent when a little yawn and what sound like the start of a snort came from his bed in the corner of the room.

"He's cute, I'll give him that." Erica said with a mischievous grin and Derek just turned to glare at her. "What? He is! You can't tell me that you don't think his gorgeous. I saw you looking at him before you went down to the festival." 

"Shut up..." Derek grumbled, daring a peek over his shoulder to look at the body that had spread itself out on his bed. He really couldn't deny that it was that gypsy's fault he went down there; with his wide, genuine smile and his big brown eyes that just sparkled. All that, of course, was before he'd discovered what a loud mouth he was.

"I'd have to agree with Erica," Issac said with a shrug, "If I wasn't stuck to this ledge and made of stone, I'd probably f-"

"Issac stop talking or I swear I'll just have to figure out a way to kill a statue." 

"That's probably the nicest threat you've ever thrown at me," Issac gushed, "Maybe this boy's having a positive effect on you." 

"You all need to stop talking. Now." Derek stared out over the city and, for once, his friends actually listened to him.   
In the silence, the werewolf managed to think over everything that was happening. There was every chance that Gerard would come to visit in the morning and scowl and yell and demanding why Derek disobeyed after years of compete obedience. And when the Judge did come, where was Stiles going to hide? Because there was no way that Derek could stop Gerard from hurting the boy and _why does that thought feel so wrong?_

Derek didn't move for the entire night, simply staring out over the view he had seen so often that if was imprinted in his memory. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Derek learned quickly that Stiles wasn't a morning person.

"Turn the sun off please," Was the first thing the boy said when he opened his eyes and immediately closed them again. Derek simply stared at him from the ledge, his eyelids feeling as though they were going to stick together ever time he blinked. He shouldn't have given the gypsy his bed. 

"Would you move, please?" The werewolf slowly trudged towards the bed, his feet dragging along the ground. He took in the sight of the boy sprawled out on the sheets and couldn't help but think that it wasn't an unpleasant thing to behold. Stiles hair was a mess, sticking out randomly and his shirt had come untucked, riding up just enough for him to see his bellybutton. With as much trouble the boy had caused, Derek couldn't deny how beautiful he was. 

"Why? M'tired..." Stiles peaked an eye open and looked up at the man, stretching his limbs out further and letting out a yawn, "Didn't sleep too well last night." 

"And I didn't sleep at all. Move." Derek didn't even have the energy to growl, his voice coming out tired and mumbled. 

"Ugh, here." Stiles rolled to the edge of the pile of sheets, curling up a little and making room, "I'm not moving so you might as well just lay down here with me. I didn't make you give up your bed so you're going to have to deal with it." There was an argument in the back of Derek's mind, an idea to just pick the boy up and toss him away from his bed but he honestly couldn't force his body to do more then just collapse ungracefully onto the comfortable, soft pile and let his eyes finally fall shut and stay closed. 

The werewolf was a quiet, still sleeper; not moving a muscle or making a sound and Stiles found himself pressing his back close to his. He was used to sharing a place to sleep, often having to curl up in between Lydia and Scott when winter came around. But however used to sleeping close to someone as he was, Stiles couldn't help but notice how _warm_ the man was, how strangely easy it was to get closer and soak up all that body heat. He felt himself drifting off again, his body slowly relaxing further into the sheets, and in his tired state, he managed to roll over and shuffle himself closer still; his forehead pressed against the mans back and his hands tucked against his own chest. It was oddly... comfortable. 

"I have a bad feeling about this..." Boyd mumbled as he and the other two statues watch the two sleeping bodies. 

"You have a bad feeling about everything," Erica laughed, "You said that exact same thing when Gerard bought Derek up here as a kid." 

"And I was right wasn't I? Nothing goods come from him being stuck up here," Boyd sighed, "He doesn't even know how to change his face back to the way it was when he was first bought here. He lost his temper once and now he's stuck..." 

"Well, whether his good or bad news, I still don't mind him being here. For something nice to look at, at least." 

"Issac, you have no shame." 

The day went on slowly, Derek sleeping soundly and Stiles too comfortable to move. The boy did think about getting up, going down to find Father Deaton and find out where exactly he could get something to eat; but when he made to move, he felt a chill run down his spine at the slightest loss of body heat and he couldn't bring himself to leave it just yet.   
He let out a yawn and pressed his cheek to the mans back, one arm moving up to pillow his head as his stretched out his hand and began to idly twirl his fingers in the mans short dark hair. 

"What are you doing...?" The question came out a barely audible mumble and Derek didn't bother to move away from the hand still playing with his hair.  
"Nothing..." Stiles said quietly, "But, while you're awake, would you mind telling me your name?" There was a brief moment of silence, like the man had already fallen back to sleep and Stiles was going to decide on asking him later when-

"Derek..." The man began to move, rolling over and Stiles had to scoot back a little to give him room. He looked at the boy with half open eyes and, just when Stiles thought he should probably move off the bed, he snaked an arm under the smaller body and tugged him against his chest. "I've never had someone to sleep next to... It's nice..." And Stiles could only smile and let himself be wrapped up in Derek's warmth like a big blanket. 

XXX

The streets were busy, filled with people bustling about to pack their things away after the festival. Travelers packing their carts and carriages and preparing to leave the city. The usual buzz that hung in the air after the festival wasn't quite as up lifting as it had been in the years before, in light of the previous days events and the reveal of the beast in the church tower everyone seemed anxious to forget about it, go back to their daily lives and pretend that everything was still normal. 

"Do you think Allison's going to come back?" Lydia almost had the urge to punch her friend when the question fell from his lips for the millionth time that day.

"She said she would," The red head weaved around a man pushing a wooden cart of apples along the dirt road before falling back into step with Scott.

"I mean, I know she said she would, but do you think she will?" 

"Scott, honey, if the way she was looking at you was anything to go by, then yes; we'll be seeing her again," Lydia rolled her eyes at the way Scott grinned, "Besides, she promised she'd help figure out a way to get Stiles out of that church."

"Hope he's okay..." Scott's smile fell and he looked at Lydia.

"He'll be fine. He's Stiles, remember?" Lydia smiled and Scott laughed because, yes, they were talking about Stiles; their friend who seemed to have a knack for finding trouble, but always managed to find a way out again.

"Yeah, you're right. Now, let's find something to eat, I'm starving."   
  


XXX

 

Kate knocked lightly on the large wooden door, only having to wait a moment before her fathers voice gave permission to enter.   
Gerard's room was illuminated only by the flickering flames in the fireplace, the light sending an eery orange hue over the walls. 

"You wanted to see me?" She smiled at the man who sat in a large, plush chair in front of the fire. Kate was dressed down in a pair of long black pants poking out from under her silver robe. 

"Yes," Gerard didn't even bother looking up at her as she stepped further into his room, "I was wondering if you had an word on the gypsy boy?" He didn't have to see his daughter t know she was smirking.

"Wouldn't it be better to ask Chris? He is captain." 

"I know you have your own men within the guard... And Chris is-" Gerard cut himself off with a loud cough, "Chris isn't like you. He's more..."

"Soft." Kate finished for him, moving to stand beside her fathers chair. "Is there something you don't want my dear brother to know?" 

"I want the gypsy." Gerard looked at his daughter as he spoke, staring her in the eye. 

"Father," Kate grinned, "That's very unbecoming of a Judge." 

"I'm old Kate," Gerard sighed, "I've sacrificed a great deal of things in my life," He stood from his chair, moving closer to the fireplace, "I want one little piece of indulgence before I die." 

"So what would you like me to do?" 

"Go there tomorrow and find him. Talk to Derek," The man turned to his daughter, his eyes narrowed in a glare, "Even if the boy isn't with him, he'll know where to find him. Derek know the in's and out's of that building more then even Father Deaton." 

"And," Kate placed a hand on her hip, "Why don't you go and interrogate the animal yourself?"  
"Because I want to look at that beast at the moment," Gerard sneered, "He disobeyed me and I would rather not lose my temper in a church." Kate nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

"Okay. So what should I do if I fond your little gypsy?"

"Take him. Have the guards create a distraction for Father Deaton and take him by force. Knock him unconscious if you must." Kate gave a nod and turned to leave, making it to the doorway before Gerard spoke up once more. "And Kate, once I die, the boy will be yours if you wish." 

"Oh," Kate smiled as she glanced over her shoulder, "I would very much like that." 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took a bit longer to post, but I have a perfectly reasonable explanation. You see, I'd actually almost finished the chapter a few days ago and was super hyped to get it finished and post it, but it was super late and I was pretty darn tired so I went to save it and head to bed. But do you know what happened when I exited out of the document? I DIDN'T NOTICE MY MOUSE SLIP TO THE SIDE JUST A LITTLE AND I HIT DON'T SAVE SO I LOST THE ENTIRE THING! I actually sat there repeating 'oh shit noooo' for a good ten minutes before I got over it. Sooo, here it is, I've kept it as close to the original chapter I wrote as I could so I'm not all too upset.  
> This one is a wee bit short and is basically a bit of sterek fluffy and I have no regrets

When Derek opened his eyes the first thing he noticed was the cool air and the darkness. It took him a short moment to realize that he'd slept through the day, and the second thin he noticed was that Stiles was still in his arms.

"Hey..." He nudged the boy slightly, unable to stop the little smile that spread across his face when an aggravated groan fell came from the small body. "It's night," Derek tried to shift enough to look at the boy, but he just kept snuggling closer when ever the man moved, "We slept through the day."

"And we can sleep through tonight." Stiles finally looked up, his eyes still tired but a lot more aware then they had been that morning.

"I'm not exactly tired enough to sleep another few hours," Derek grumbled and Stiles grinned.

"Is that so?"

"I-" The man blinked before realization dawned in his eyes, "You-That's not what I meant!" He bared his teeth and was only a little surprised when the boy didn't even flinch.

"I know, I'm just teasing you," Stiles untangled himself from the pair of large arms and rolled onto his back, stretching his arms up above his head and smiling at Derek, "You don't seem like you've done much of anything with anyone in your life."

"And why wouldn't I do much of anything?" And the only response to Derek's question was a look of _you're really asking that?_ The man frowned, unsure of what to say or whether or not he should be offended because there really was no way any one would do anything of that nature with him regardless of his being stuck in his tower. "Because you just seem like you'd shy away as soon as anyone even comes close to making any moves on you." 

"Really?" 

"Yes, really." 

Derek decided he would blame it on the fact that he'd just woken up, still too tired to think clearly; or the fact that Stiles was looking at him with a wide, cocky grin that he just wanted to get rid of as soon as possible but clearly wasn't thinking when he rolled over, his body laying out on top of the boys and he pressed his lips to Stiles, who lay perfectly still with his eyes wide in pure surprise.  
It was strange, having his lips against someone else's and Derek really didn't know what else to do, especially when the boy beneath him didn't move a single muscle. He pulled his head up, but only slightly, to look down at the gypsy, expecting either a look of disgust, or horror; what he was met with was neither of what he thought.  
Stiles was staring at him with his big eyes, wide with shock but that was it. There was no terror, no disgust, just shock and confusion. 

"I-"

"Shut up." Stiles' whispered order was all it took to cut off Derek's attempt at an excuse; that and the way the boy took hold of the werewolves ears and pulled him down again, fitting their lips together and Derek honestly thought his heart would burst right out of his chest.  
It was obvious that Derek had no clue what he was doing in the way he just tried to copy the way the gypsy's mouth moved.  
It was all sweet and closed mouthed and Derek was content to just stay like that, listening to the way Stiles' heart beat rapidly in his chest, his hands finding their way to the back of his head and tangling in the werewolves hair. All Derek could think about was the boy beneath him; forgetting his life, his home, his own face while it felt like the only thing in his world was Stiles. It was as if his own heart fell into rhythm with the boys, their body fitting together as Derek began to grow more confident in the way he kissed the gypsy.

There was a small repetitive sound that ran through Derek's body in a wave, soothing whatever tension he had and it took him a moment to realize it was the sound of the boy's quiet breathing.  
Stiles was the one to pull back, his eyes closed and his lips parted ever so slightly as he seemed to just think, his mind registering everything and Derek could only stare at him. His gaze swept over the boys face, memorizing everything from up close; his lips, his nose, the way his eyebrows furrowed just a little as he was lost in thought. 

"Derek I-" Stiles finally looked up at the man, about to say something but the words died in his throat and his eyes slowly went wider then they had when he'd been kissed without warning. "Derek..." There was a moment when the werewolf thought that the boy was going to say that he should leave, that he wasn't thinking or that it was all a mistake. But nothing like that happened. Instead, he felt Stiles fingers brush over his brown, down the line of his nose and then over his cheek. And it felt nice to have someone touch him, but there was something different. He knew his face, every bone and muscle and the way Stiles fingers moved over his skin wasn't what he knew; wasn't quite right but also didn't feel wrong.  
He blinked once, twice, then look down at his hands that had been supporting him over the boy and all he saw was a normal set of fingers. No claws. 

"What..." He turned his gaze to one of the bells, the reflection he was met with wasn't a face that was familiar to him, but it held the same shock in its eyes that he felt. He looked so... normal.

"Your... face," Stiles was still staring up at him, his fingers still drifting over his skin, "Derek, what happened?" 

"I don't know... There's something wrong. I don't-I don't know what's happening." Derek went to move, to lift himself from the boy but Stiles was quick to take the unfamiliar in his hands and force him to look at him. Neither said anything, simply stared at each other in light of the moon that bathed the room in a soft glow. 

"Your eyes are the same," Stiles whispered in the silence, "They're a different color but their the _same_..." His fingertip brushed the skin just under Derek's lower lashes, the touch soft and calming and Derek found himself relaxing. 

"I read..." He cleared his throat when his voice came out horse through his dry throat, "In one of Gerard's books, I read that my kind can change their face... Look human. He-he told me that it was a myth, not true because werewolves are monsters and we can't hide that fact."

"Werewolves?" There was a small hint of disbelief in Stiles' voice, but he made no move to push the man off of him, simply tilting his head in question.

"Yeah I-Gerard took me in when he stopped my family... They were monsters and if anyone else would have found me, they would have killed me to..." 

"You know..." Stiles combed his fingers through the mans hair, a look of thoughtfulness taking over his features, "I really don't see a monster here. Never have, even when you're angry, you seem more human then a lot of human's I've met and that's-" Derek really couldn't help it; he just had to lean down and capture the boys lips again. Everything inside him felt warm every time their lips moved, Stiles' words making his heart leap. 

All his life he was taught that no matter what he does, he was a monster, a creature that's natural instinct was to kill and for that reason, he had to stay locked away from humanity. But Stiles didn't see that, didn't believe that. Stiles saw him, him, not the monster he was told he was. 

They stayed locked together for longer then Derek could remember, kissing each other gently and... _lovingly_. It was something Derek never imagined he would have in his life, and when he finally got it in the form of the beautiful boy beneath him, he never wanted to let it go. Everything in his world right then was Stiles, nothing else mattered; not even the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs when the sun had risen without either of them realizing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know it's taken me a huge ass amount of time to get this up and I'm so sorry ;_; I've sort of been all over the place recently, like literally, I've been staying at four different houses in like the past two weeks and finding the time and energy to write has been difficult but here ya go lovelies, I fiiiiiinally have it up!

Kate Argent wasn't one to be surprised easily. She was smart and vicious and very difficult to outsmart or catch off guard; but as she stepped into the room at the top of the church, she could deny that she was very much surprised.  
She knew the beast her father kept would have something to do with the gypsy boy, would have held some sort of affection towards him when he'd saved him from the cruelty of the people below. But to see that young boy underneath the beast, his long fingers tangled in his hair and his slim legs wrapped loosely around his waist, her mind began to think up new ways to torture the werewolf.  
The one thing she just could not wrap her mind around though, was how frighteningly _normal_ Derek looked, his face no longer twisted in his beastly form, but handsome and smooth as his clawless hands cupped the boys face so gently that Kate would have gagged.  
It was only when she cleared her throat and made her presence known did Derek notice her, his head snapping towards her direction and his face falling back into his normal hideousness that Kate loved to torment. 

"Well," She stepped further into the room, closer to the two as she grinned at the horrified look on the poor boys face, "Look's like my job just got a little easier.

"Kate," Derek's face twisted in a snarl as his body, once relaxed lying onto of the gypsy, moved to a more caging postion, as if to sheild his boy from the woman, "You can't touch him. Not when he's in here."

"Oh sweet thing, you're forgetting who you're talking to, aren't you?" Kate chuckled, placing a hand on her hip as she ushered her two guards in, "My father wants that pretty little boy, so I'm going to take him for him." Derek growled at her, the sound feral coming from his throat as he pushed himself up and dragged Stiles up with him, holding the boy behind himself and glaring at the guards as if _daring_ them to try and touch him. 

"Leave." The word came out low and demanding, an tone Derek wasn't used to hearing in his own voice, but as Stiles clung to him, it was the only thing he could do was to protect him. 

"Don't be a fool, Derek," Kate frowned, "My father always gets what he wants. I can always find you another pretty little thing to keep you warm." 

" _Leave_." It was the only word Derek knew in that moment and when he growled it out with such force that it rattled the pillars, Kate narrowed her eyes at him, ordering her men to fall back. 

"Very well Derek, I'll let you keep him for a little while longer," She slowly stepped forward, looking passed the beast so she could catch the boys eyes, "I hope this beast prepares you well enough for what you're going to receive when I take you to my father. Gerard Argent may be old, but just think of all the time he's had to figure out just what he likes from his toys." With that and a wink, Kate turned and left and Derek only waited a split second when she'd disappeared to turn and all but wrap himself around the frozen gypsy. 

"Don't-" Stiles' voice caught in his throat as Derek just held him tighter, "Don't let her take me. Oh god-I can't... I can't go to people like them. I can't be owned like that-Derek, they'll lock me up and torture me and-and oh god I don't want to live like that-" Derek could hear his heart rate pounding dangerously fast, feel his breath coming out in small, uneven gasps, "What if-What if they find Scott and Lydia? What if they take them as well? I can't let them-"  
Derek couldn't stand it, couldn't handle listening to the boy falling apart at the mere thought that Kate and Gerard would get what they wanted. Because he knew that if they did, Stiles would never see the light of day; he'd be nothing but a toy. There was only one thing he could think to do; he took the boys face in his hands and pressed their lips together. It was firm, barely more then a simple touch, but it seemed to calm Stiles down, allow him to stop shaking and help him breathe easier. 

"I won't let them," Derek whispered, "I'll keep you safe..." There was never anything in his life that gave him cause to stand up to the old man who had kept him locked in that tower; who had taught him that he was nothing more then a monster. But with Stiles' freedom, his very life in danger, Derek had to do what he could to stop Gerard from taking him.  
"Derek I have to..." Stiles sighed, pressing his forehead into the man's shoulder, "I have to get out of this building. I have to leave before she comes back..." Derek felt his heart sink at the thought, everything in him wanting to keep the boy there, never let him from his side but he couldn't do that, not when Kate had threatened to do the exact same thing and it sent Stiles into a panic. 

"Tonight," Derek managed to force the words out, "I'll help you escape tonight, when it's dark and the guards will be tired, a little less alert." He felt the boy nod and couldn't help but tighten his arms just a bit more, holding him close and not wanting to let him go. Stiles let out a small sigh, his hands coming to rest on the werewolves chest. 

"I hope... I hope Scott and Lydia are okay..."

XXX

Allison had plenty of practice sneaking out of the palace, her shoes in one hand as her bare feet patted near silently along the stone ground. There was no real rule that stated that she couldn't roam around the streets on her own, but her father was far too protective and liked to have guards follow her ever step.  
She'd never really had much of a reason to really sneak out unnoticed before, besides her own want to just have a moment of peace without knowing she was being watched, but after meeting the gypsies, after speaking to them about their trapped friend, she'd agreed to help them and she knew that if anyone under her grandfather knew, there would certainly be consequences.  
She'd managed to get out onto the streets without trouble and she couldn't help but smile as she neared the gypsies tent. And her smile only grew wider when she saw Scott and Lydia a few feet away from their little home, Lydia with her tambourine and Scott sitting near her with a goofy little smile. 

"Good morning." Allison came up next to the boy and she almost laughed at the way he jumped to his feet and bowed his head slightly.

"H-hi-good morning!" He grinned at her and turned to Lydia, who did one last tap of her instrument against her hip and gave a little wave.

"Welcome back to our humble abode, Miss Allison," The gypsy girl moved closer and placed a hand on her friends shoulder, "Thank god you're here, Scott hasn't shut up about you."

" _Lydia_!" The whine that came out of Scott's mouth had Allison's laughter bubbling out of her. She'd never known a well muscled gypsy could look quite... _cute_. 

  
"Shut up Scotty boy, you know it's true." Lydia smirked and pushed passed him just enough stand in front of Allison. "So have you heard anything about Stiles? They haven't caught him or planning to do anything?" 

"He hasn't been caught, Grandfather would make a point of announcing it if he had, and I haven't heard of any plans or anything but-" Allison's voice cut off as she glanced around, her eyes going wide and she turned to look at the ground quickly.

"Allison? What's wrong?" Scott placed a hand on her arm and Lydia looked around to find what had the girl so tense.

"My aunt Kate," Allison nudged her head towards the church, "The woman with the two guards walking down the steps. I know that look on her face and it never means anything good when Grandfather has ordered her to find someone for him." 

"Stiles," Lydia put it together, "She was looking for Stiles..."

"And she found him," Allison nodded, "But she hasn't got him, which means she'll be planning some horrific way to draw him out. Whenever Grandfather wants something... not quite morally correct done, he has Aunt Kate do it." 

"So what are we going to do?" Scott ran a hand through his hair, "There are guards all over the place. We can't just walk in there and get him out." 

"I can... I can try to talk to my father," Allison began to move closer to Scott, hiding herself as Kate walked passed, "He isn't a bad man, he may help." 

" _May_ help?" There was no hiding how skeptical Lydia was in allowing a member of the guard, the _captain_ , know they were trying to take their friend back. 

"Just... Let me talk to him, okay? He'll listen to me." 

"We'll trust you," Scott said quietly, smiling at Allison as she looked up at him, "If you say your father can help, then we'll trust you."  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Another chapter uploaded so soon? Look's like my brain decided that, screw everything else, we gotta get this thing rolling!  
> Also, I want mention one little thing that you guys probably don't know about me, and that's that oh my gosh comments make me giddy as hell. I don't expect everyone to write a comment but when I get them, they make me happier then a fourteen year old kid who just got the newest CoD game (my brother is one of those fourteen year old boys so I know exactly what I'm talking about) There was a particular comment on the last chapter that I ended up reading at like 4am and damn it, I wound up crying because lack of sleep and an overwhelming feeling of 'HOLY COW SOMEONE ACTUALLY SAID THIS ABOUT MY WORK' (you know bloodly well who you are)

Chris Argent liked to think of himself as a tolerant man, able to put up with his sister's obvious enjoyment of tormenting people, his fathers undeniable injustice towards gypsies and his daughters constant need to be out on her own. He had spent years mastering the art of keeping a straight face, but when his dear Allison came to him in his chambers and the words _'I'm helping the gypsies'_ came out of her mouth, he simply could not keep his face stoic.

"You _what_!?" His daughter flinched and he took a moment to take a deep breath and calm himself. "Allison, why have you even been speaking with gypsies? You know what your Grandfather would do." 

"I know, I just-" Allison paced in front of the man, her hands fidgeting in front of her as she tried to get a hold of her nerves, "You have to meet them, Father. They're not thieves or liars. They just want to help their friend escape."

"The boy who humiliated your Grandfather?" Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, "Allison, you can't-"

"Grandfather's sent Kate to get him," Allison cut him off quickly and she could see the way her fathers body tensed, "You know what that means." 

"It mean's..." Chris sighed, "That Gerard isn't just going to imprison him. He'll either kill him or torture him..." 

"Or worse." 

"What could be worse then torture Allison?" The look Chris received for his question was answer enough. "Okay, I'll do what I can. Kate doesn't know it, but I'm aware that she has men in my guard, so we'll have to tread carefully and not involve anyone we know we can trust. Gerard cannot know of our involvement in this by the end of it. If he's so desperate to get that boy, he'll punish anyone who tries to get in his way." 

"Scott and Lydia are waiting by the markets," Allison made to leave, "I would suggest you get rid of the armor before you come. You'll be easily spotted otherwise." Chris could only let out a frustrated sigh as she closed the big door behind her. Of _course_ he knew to take his armor off; it wasn't the first time he'd sneaked out without his father or sister knowing.

XXX

Some day's, Lydia felt as though she was the only one out of her and her friends who had rational, logical thought. Scott had his moments, sure, but most of the time Lydia could swear all he could do was wear that little smile of his and go along with whatever terribly risky plan Stiles came up with. Those boys, she swore, would be the death of her one day. Stiles was smart, very smart, but he was also a mischievous little thing and most of his brilliant ideas tended to get them into trouble. It was the reason they were on the road all the time, not that Lydia would deny that it was kind of fun sometimes, watching her boys run a muck.  
But now that there was genuine danger, now that Stiles' freedom, possibly his life, could be at risk, Lydia had to ignore the fun of the idea of making a fool out of the Judge and his gurads and think about the potential outcome if it all went badly.  
One thing she did not quite agree with was letting the Captain of the guard help them. Allison seemed genuine enough, but Chris Argent was a little closer to Judge Gerard, a little less trustworthy. But Scott had decided to trust her word, and that boy did tend to trust the right people, excluding Stiles sometimes, so Lydia agreed to meet up with the Captain. 

That didn't mean she wasn't going to keep an eye on him.

"There they are." Scott nudged his shoulder into her side slightly, nodding his head towards the entrance to the market.  
Allison was easy enough to spot, though she was dressed down in a simple brown dress and black cloak. Her father was a little less obvious, wearing the same black cloak over a white shirt and dark pants. His face was covered in the shadow of his hood and he looked more like a thief then a Captain. Perhaps not the best look to go for in a market, Lydia thought. 

"We don't have a lot of time," Allison whispered once she reached them, "Father's absence will be noticed if he's away for too long." 

"We won't take too long," Lydia murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked around, taking note of the guards wandering around, keeping an eye on the market, "We just need to know if you," She looked pointedly at the captain, "Can help us." 

"There isn't anything I can to in the guard that my father won't find out about," Chris kept his head down and his voice low, "But I can get into the church without them noticing and talk to Father Deaton, see if there's a way out of the church that my father doesn't know about." 

"Well," Lydia pursed her lips and gave him a gentle shove in the direction of the church, "Get to it. I'm guessing we don't have a lot of tie before your sister makes a move." 

"Wait, what about the... creature in the bell tower?" Allison piped up quickly, "What if Stiles went up there with it?" 

"Creature? You mean that," Lydia thought for a moment, "That poor soul Stiles dragged up on stage?"

"And saved from the crowd," Allison nodded, "Stiles could have gone to find him in the church? If he's as curious a person as you told me he is." 

"Stiles may be curious, but he isn't stupid," The gypsy girl huffed, "He may have saved him from the crowd, but he was also the reason that man ended up there in the first place. He wouldn't be silly enough to seek him out."

XXX

There was something about Stiles that had Derek wanting to be with him, know his scent, memorize the sound of his heartbeat. He was a loud mouthed boy, but he was beautiful and not once had he asked if Derek could change his face again, he thought never seemed to cross his mind as he st with Derek as they waited for the sun to go down.  
Derek couldn't deny that he enjoyed the boys presence the longer he was there. After the gypsy had calmed down, he began ranting on and on about his friends and their lives. He talked about how his mother was sick and he and his father took her to the Healer McCall, he met Scott there and Scott was always around to make Stiles feel better, especially when his Melissa wasn't able to save his mother. Stiles and his father had stayed close by, and Stiles knew it was because Scott was a good friend for Stiles and Melissa was a kind woman. They were each others only friend for years, always getting into trouble, but Stiles was smart enough to get them out, or Scott would just pull his little puppy dog eyes and everyone's hearts would melt. Stiles claimed that he and Lydia were the only ones immune to the dreaded 'Scotty-pout.'  
The story of how they met Lydia was an interesting one. She was from a noble family and she was betrothed to a boy over seas from the House of Whittemore. She was prim and proper and would scowl upon any misdeeds, but one morning when she was walking with her small fluffy dog through the village streets, she bumped into two young boys with wide grins and stolen bread. It was a moment of weakness, that was what she'd told them years later when they asked, when she took them both by their forearms and dragged them into the narrow space between two small homes. It was in the shadows where they waited for the guards to search somewhere else that Scott and Stiles somehow convinced Lydia to be their friend. She may have been prim and proper, but the young girl had a little spark of gypsy in her and Stiles had said that with a wide grin and a hint of pride. 

"You really love your friends, don't you?" Derek wasn't sure how they'd ended up on the floor, Stiles sitting in his lap with his back to his chest, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't comfortable. 

"Of course I do," The boy laughed and leaned his head back on Derek's shoulder, "Those two were what kept me going for a long time. We were... The three terrors," He snorted back another laugh, "But, it was mostly me and Scott that did the terrorizing, Lydia just loved to be there to remind us that 'she told us so.'" The way Stiles talked about his life, the fun he and his friends had, Derek couldn't help himself when he blurted his next words out.

"Why did you all leave?" And when Stiles went still and tense on top of him, he immediately regretted ever opening his mouth. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-It's not my-"

"We had to," Stiles cut off his ranted apology with quiet words, "The more Lydia was with us, the more she came to realize that she didn't want to be sent away. She was born into a noble family and that means there were a lot of expectations of her. She had to marry politically, not out of love, she had to bare children and be a perfect little wife and as that life may appeal to some women, Lydia just didn't want any part of it. We knew that if she'd simply left her home and stayed with us, her family would know where to look and my father and Melissa would take the blame for hiding a noble girl in their home. Melissa is the village Healer and my father keeps the peace there, but that doesn't make them immune if a higher born family accuses them of something terrible like kidnapping their daughter, and there was no-way that any of them would listen to Lydia so... We... We took what we could and left..." He turned his head slightly, looking at Derek with a delicate little smile. "She doesn't regret it... And neither do Scott and I. It was her choice and it was a hard one but... Living on the road, traveling without having to tie down anywhere for good; that's a life we all love now. It's freedom at its finest." 

"Freedom..." Derek whispered the word like a it was a strange, foreign language that he was still trying to learn. He reached a hand up, his fingers ghosting along the boys jawline. He had to push the knowledge that this boy was leaving him to the back of his mind for as long as he could. He had to pretend that Stiles wasn't going to go, that he wasn't going to be _alone_ again. He was so kind and gentle and Derek just couldn't-

"Come with me..." The words were murmured so quietly that, for a moment, Derek thought he'd imagined them. But when he met the gypsies eyes, he had no words for how much sincerity he saw. 

"Go... with you?" He had to know, had to be sure that the boy was being serious. 

"Yeah, I-" There was a sense of nervousness in Stiles' voice, "I don't want to leave you but... I can't stay here, in the city. Not while the Judge is after me... Not while that... woman is doing what she can to give me to her father." He took a deep breath and moved, turning his body so that he sat with his legs either side Derek's and his hands cupping his face. He pressed a kiss to the mans lips and whispered, "Tonight, I want you to come with me..."


	9. THIS ISN'T A CHAPTER I'M SORRY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IMSORRY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMSOSORRY

So, as I said, I am very extremely super muchly sorry and I know it's been forever since I last posted, but I promise you all, I'm still writing and I intend to finish this!!!! I have been without internet for quite a while and I have very limited time to write. I don't intend to drop this at all because it's still running through my mind. It may be a little while till I post the next chapter and I'll try to get a few written ou for when I next have internet. I guess you could say I'm on a mini Hiatus but I swear it won't be too long. If I get it all done on time and if everything goes to plan, I'll hopefully get a few up on Tuesday or Wednesday. 

I love you all and if you're still interested in reading this story, please let me know <3

 

 


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